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  • Shillelagh Law Was All the Rage…

    Posted by Shannon Love on March 16th, 2009 (All posts by )

    …and the row and the ruction soon began.

    Not your granddad’s Finnigan’s Wake. Not James Joyce’s either.

    The lyrics after the break.

    Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street 

    A gentleman Irish, mighty odd;

    He’d a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet

    And to rise in the world he carried a hod.

    Now Tim had a sort o’ the tipplin’ way

    With a love of the liquor poor Tim was born

    And to help him on with his work each day

    He’d a drop of the craythur ev’ry morn.

     

    One mornin’ Tim was rather full

    His head felt heavy which made him shake,

    He fell from the ladder and broke his skull

    And they carried him home his corpse to wake.

    They wrapped him up in a nice clean sheet

    And laid him out across the bed,

    With a gallon of whiskey at his feet

    And a barrel of porter at his head.

    Chorus

    Whack fol the dah now dance to your partner

    Welt the flure, your trotters shake;

    Wasn’t it the truth I told you

    Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

     

    His friends assembled at the wake

    And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,

    First they brought in tea and cake

    Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch.

    Biddy O’Brien began to cry

    “Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?

    “Arrah, Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?”

    “Ah, shut your gob” said Paddy McGee!

     

    Chorus

    Whack fol the dah now dance to your partner

    Welt the flure, your trotters shake;

    Wasn’t it the truth I told you

    Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

     

    Then Maggy O’Connor took up the job

    “O Biddy,” says she, “You’re wrong, I’m sure”:

    Biddy gave her a belt in the gob

    And left her sprawlin’ on the floor. 

    And then the war did soon engage

    ‘Twas woman to woman and man to man,

    Shillelagh law was all the rage

    And the row and the ruction soon began.

     

    Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head

    When a flagon of whiskey flew at him,

    It missed, and fallin’ on the bed

    The liquor scattered over Tim.

    Tim revives! See how he rises!

    Timothy rising from the bed

    Sayin’: “Whirl your liquor around like blazes!

    Thanam o’n Dhoul! D’ye think I’m dead?”

     

    Chorus

    Whack fol the dah now dance to your partner

    Welt the flure, your trotters shake;

    Wasn’t it the truth I told you

    Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

     

    Chorus

    Whack fol the dah now dance to your partner

    Welt the flure, your trotters shake;

    Wasn’t it the truth I told you

    Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!